


First Words

by suchanadorer



Series: Hamish Watson-Holmes [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-11
Updated: 2011-11-11
Packaged: 2017-10-25 22:43:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/275647
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suchanadorer/pseuds/suchanadorer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamish's first words are not what Sherlock had hoped for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Words

**Author's Note:**

> For [Hamish Watson-Holmes'](http://hamish-watson-holmes.tumblr.com) Tumblr.

”What were yours, then?” John looked down at Hamish and smiled, the boy grasping tightly to one of his index fingers as John bounced him on his knee.

”Oh, I don’t remember. Hardly an important thing, the first words that come out of your mouth. Children’s mouths form the simplest words they are capable of. It is completely arbitrary, the only sounds a child knows how to make.” Sherlock turned his face back towards the sofa, curling in on himself even more. John tilted his head slightly and smiled.

”You’re upset.”

”What? No, not at all. It’s not like he meant it anyway.” Sherlock’s voice trailed off towards the end, his expression softening as he looked back over his shoulder at the two of them. John met his eyes and held his gaze while he bent his head to plant a kiss in Hal’s dark curls.

”Mama. Mamamamama!” Hamish squirmed in John’s grasp, his arms stretched as far out in front of him as he could manage, tiny hands clenching as he reached ineffectually after Sherlock. John giggled, tucking his chin as he slid an arm around Hamish, trying to keep him from pitching forward off his leg.

“I think he wants you, luv.” Sherlock twisted in the sofa, giving John a dark look as he stepped over the coffee table and dropped to a crouch in front of them, dressing gown pooling around his feet. Hamish squealed as Sherlock leaned in close, rubbing their noses together.

“Would a Dada have been too much ask for?” Sherlock whispered as he drew a hand over Hamish’s head and gathered the boy into his arms as he stood. Hamish snuggled in against his chest, his little hand fisting into the fabric of Sherlock’s t-shirt.

“Mama.”

John rose out his chair, his grin impossibly broad. “Would you like some tea, then?” he called out as he headed toward the kitchen.

Sherlock grunted approvingly as he moved back to the sofa, stretching his legs out with Hamish still in his arms. He smiled down at his son who was now quietly babbling to himself. “Dada, Hamish. Can you say Dada?” Sherlock whispered, his eyes moving between John’s figure in the kitchen and Hamish’s ear, half-hidden under his mop of dark hair.

“Let him be, Sherlock. It’ll come. It’s not like he thinks you’re his mummy.” John set the mugs down and waited while Sherlock curled his legs in, then stretched them back out over John’s lap as he settled in beside him.

Sherlock huffed out a small sigh. “I don’t want him to say it for me, John. I’m not Dad.” His face was tight with concern, but he relaxed when John smiled at him, placing a hand over one of Sherlock’s own. He leaned across the sofa and pulled Sherlock’s hand to him, placing a kiss on his knuckles before returning it to Hamish’s back.

“All in good time, Sherlock.”

“But John?”

“Hmm?” John looked away, leaning forward to stir his tea.

“This Mama business. Mycroft must never know.”

John nodded, chin jutting out just a little as he pushed the other mug across the table. “Not a word.”


End file.
